


Jealous Moon (Longing Sun)

by WednesdaysDaughter



Category: Practical Magic (1998), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Full Shift Werewolves, M/M, Magical Allison Argent, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Minor Allison Argent/Isaac Lahey, Minor Character Death, Minor Stiles Stilinski/Theo Raeken, Mutual Pining, Original Character(s), Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-17 13:37:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4668599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WednesdaysDaughter/pseuds/WednesdaysDaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is said that any person foolish enough to fall in love with an Owens woman is doomed to die. It is this curse that haunts both Allison and Stiles Stilinski after their father dies and their mother shorty after. Together they must fight to keep their friends and family safe when faced with a homicidal werewolf and his quest for power. Joined by the Alpha Derek Hale and his emissary Lydia Martin, Stiles and Allison are forced to confront the curse that's haunted their family for so long; A curse that neither Derek nor Lydia believe in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Something Dark and Deep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are not enough sibling!Stiles and Allison fics out there so I decided to take one of my favorite films/books and give it my own little twist (I just hope I can do it well.)

It was often whispered between the women hiding beneath the turquoise hooded hair dryers at Crowning Glory, that there was something peculiar about the Stilinski’s.

Well known for her eccentric style and brilliant laughter, Claudia Owens settled into the sleepy town of Beacon Hills eager to carve out a home for a family. She carried the scent of salt and sand with her and shortly the rain followed; drenching the parched ground until flooding made it difficult to travel. Never bothered by the downpour, Claudia would walk barefoot into town and offer an umbrella she kept bundled up in her bag to anyone caught outside in the deluge. While she didn’t earn any points for normality, she was soon praised for her fluffy pie crust and succulent jams.

For however much they tolerated her presence, folks still tsked in displeasure when she managed to “ensnare” the handsome and well-mannered John Stilinski: A local with his eyes set firmly on become Sheriff one day. ‘Such a shame’ they sighed when he became smitten enough to purpose to her under a brilliant meteor shower that carried on three nights longer than originally predicted. The town then saw the greatest influx of strangers for the wedding of John and Claudia, which took place at twilight on the edge of the preserve.

Once hands were tied and rings exchanged, the ceremony dissolved into a wild bonfire that lasted until sunrise. From that moment on, odd things began to happen.

Hardly considered normal, Claudia and John would glide across the heated sidewalk as if it were a frozen pond and stand with heads tilted - listening to the wind’s latest adventures. In the spring, all the flowering trees would shower Claudia and her two children in a swarm of soft petals and they’d dance as if safe in their own backyard. The Sheriff could often been heard chatting in his office to the barren pots his wife would drop by every Thursday without fail and everyone would stare in shock as she’d return to collect fully grown plants the very next day.

Stiles and Allison Stilinski seemed to have mastered the secret art of silent communication early on; using their eyes like smoke signals when the other children would call them names. Their bruises healed seemingly overnight and it was rumored their blood was sweeter than honey since bees took to them with an unsettling ease. When Morgana, a stray black kitten, started walking with them to school, Stiles and Allison were given a wide berth and they hid their snickers behind their sticky, caramel-covered fingers.

With evergreen grass and luscious honeysuckle growing wild and untamed on the side of their brick house, the Stilinski’s were an oddity in Beacon Hills.

Were it not for the curse one would almost consider them fortunate: Almost.

\- - - - - - - - - -

“I hope I never fall in love.”

Victoria Owens glanced across the table at her sister Jennifer and could feel her concern as if it was her own. Poking at her mashed potatoes, Allison used her free hand to pull the hair back from her face after the table fell silent. Stiles’ skeptical snort made her glare transfer from the mutilated vegetables to him.

“Oh and I suppose you want to end up like mom and dad?”

Her words cut them all.

Stiles spine held its sudden rigidity with pride when he pushed away from the table and walked past Allison without so much as a flinch when she reached out to apologize. Heartsick and guilty, she bid her aunts goodnight and slid away from the table to hide in the greenhouse out back until she knew Stiles would forgive her.

“What are we going to do?” Jennifer exhaled heavily and the candles decorating the table flickered out; leaving them with only the sunlight streaming through crimson curtains to light the dark room.

“Give them time,” Victoria reasoned, “and space.”

Night falls over the house with a sigh and the only noise left is the casting of a spell. Allison glides from plant to plant; plucking petals and leaves (with their permission) and letting them fall into a wooden bowl.

She doesn’t startle when Stiles speaks to her, the first time in hours.

“It won’t help you know.”

Allison shrugs and smiles over her shoulder when Stiles rolls his eyes. The fact he’s talking to her again means she’s forgiven and nothing he can say will take that relief from her. He follows her upstairs and watches as the wind pulls the miscellaneous plant debris from the bowl and they observe in silence as it floats away, dancing around their heads in a circle until neither one can make out their shapes in the dark sky.

Walking her to her bedroom, Stiles pauses and then tucks an errant strand behind Allison’s ear.

“Even if you don’t fall in love, others will fall in love with you and you’re too kind to break anyone’s heart Ali.”

With that, he turns and ducks into his room next door, leaving Allison standing in the doorway with a sore heart and stinging lips from where her teeth worried them. Troubled dreams plague Allison for weeks until Stiles takes her out back and they hunt for fireflies to carry their wishes on their backs when released into the wild.

“What did you wish for?” Allison asks when they’re washing the dirt of their feet in the greenhouse.

“To not end up like our parents,” Stiles begins and Allison looks down to hide her tears until Stiles finishes, “And for you to be happy.”

Cheeks pink, Allison flings her arms around Stiles and doesn’t let go until he returns the gesture and for once, he doesn’t complain.

\- - - - - - - - - -

“What am I supposed to do with you gone?”

Stiles stops and for the first time in years he studies Allison intently; her hair braided into a single braid and curled around her shoulder that reminded him of how Morgana wrapped herself around his neck whenever he read. She’s eighteen and already Allison looks like she’s lived through a war that no one came home from. The moon reflects against her glasses, hiding the sadness in her eyes, though Stiles could feel it in his bones.

“Live a normal life?” Stiles hedges and his words only upset her more.

“How does your leaving help me with that?”

Her voice wavers and it makes Stiles feel like the worst person on the planet and it’s killing his buzz. Holding up a finger, he runs to the window and throws his bag down before bracing himself for the second most uncomfortable conversation of his life.

“Because I’m prickly Allison; I’m like belladonna – good in small doses, but ultimately poisonous.”

He can feel her anger bubbling under the surface and if he wasn’t so set on leaving, he’d consider staying just to see who she’d curse for making him feel like a disease. Truth was it wasn’t just one person. Allison could fit in with the gossipy normals of Beacon Hills: Stiles could not. He had too much energy, he was too much trouble. No matter how many times Allison came to his defense, it just made things worse. He knew she’d never be able to settle down if he stuck around and even though it hurt to admit it, Allison was better off without him.

“No I’m not!”

Stiles startled and then sighed in frustration.

“I hate it when you do that,” he grumbled and Allison glared.

“Then stop thinking stupid things and I won’t have to.”

Stiles stuck his tongue out and it was like the defusing on a bomb. Allison’s shoulders began to shake and she’s laughing and crying at the same time and Stiles can’t help but wrap her in his arms until they can breathe easy.

“I can’t stay here, Ali. I just… can’t. This town is stifling; I’m suffocating in this house! I’m not leaving to leave you, I just have to. Sometimes you have to leave home. Sometimes, running away means you're headed in the exact right direction. Besides, you’ll never settle down and have a normal life if you keep taking care of me,” Stiles teases.

“What if I don’t want normal,” Allison whispered into Stiles’ damp shirt.

“Yeah and I maybe one day I’ll quit casting.”

Stiles’ sarcasm didn’t bite at her like it used to when they were children, but it still made her frown and pull away from his shoulder.

“I’m serious Stiles. You’re all I have left, why would I want something that would make you leave?” Her sincerity is like a balm on his burnt heart and his smile is so tender it makes Allison want to cry again.

“Because Ali, you do. That whole husband and 2.5 kids with a white picket fence fantasy is all you’ve been dreaming about since you were fifteen. You haven’t even picked up your old spell book since before graduation.”

Allison gnawed at her lip, “Are you mad at me?”

“Aw, Ali come on, you know I don’t care whether you follow the aunts' path or not. I want you to be happy and our lifestyle has always made you a bit twitchy.”

Stiles’ sincerity eases the tension coiling in Allison’s chest and her grateful smile makes it easier for Stiles to break away. He pulls a pocketknife out and motions for Allison to hold out her hand. The look she shoots him makes him roll his eyes, but she holds out her hand and barely winces when he slices her palm.

“This is our blood Ali and no matter how far I go, that’ll never change. The second you need me I’ll be on the next plane back and I won’t leave until you’re okay.”

Stiles squeezes their hands together and blood tickles down Allison’s wrist and onto the floor.

“You promise?” Allison asks more out of habit than anything else.

She can feel his sigh of exasperation and her smirk mirrors his own when Stiles pulls her back into a fierce hug.

“I figure you’re the only person I’m capable of loving, so yeah I promise.”

Lips sore and red from keeping her distress from leaking all over Stiles, Allison nods and watches as he pulls away and jumps out the window and lands steadily on two feet. He salutes her quickly and vanishes into the night before she can return the gesture.

Allison doesn’t see her brother again until seven years have passed and it’s her grief that calls him home like a banshee’s scream.

\- - - - - - - - - -

His name was Isaac Lahey and Allison knew the night she heard the ticking of the death beetle that her mother’s fear was hereditary; lurking in her blood just like the magic carved into her bones.

Six years of marriage ended with a broken heart and two children who didn’t know they had inherited the very curse that killed their father and turned their mother into a shadow of the woman she once was. Reluctant, but desperate, Allison gathered her daughters Diana and Emilia and moved back in with her aunts.

Jennifer and Victoria were more than happy to take them in, but not so pleased with Allison’s strict ‘no magic’ policy. However, they followed their niece’s wish – to the best of their ability – and kept their casting to a minimum while Diana and Emilia were around. It didn’t stop them completely of course; Allison wasn’t housebound and the girls were very curious creatures. Most nights would find them sneaking past their mother’s room and into the kitchen where potions simmered on the gas lit stove.

“You have your uncle’s spirit,” Jennifer praised Emilia whose gift was so powerful it brought music into the house in the middle of the night as the piano played itself. With a subtly that throbbed in her mother, Diana’s magic manifested in the rapid growth and rebirth of dead plants in the greenhouse who suffered dreadfully when Allison had married Isaac and moved out. Light from the moon would, without fail, pour into their bedroom window and bless their dreams.

“Why doesn’t Momma do magic anymore?”

Victoria’s hand paused; fingers entwined in Emilia’s blond curls and she pressed a kiss onto her head before replying.

“Her heart is broken baby and it’s hard to do magic when you’re in pain.”

There’s not much she can say to that, so Emilia just nods and goes back to reading an old journal she found a few days ago. Allison had gone to bed hours ago and they had long stopped trying to pry her from her bed. It’s midnight on the dot when a knocking on the front door draws Diana from the kitchen table and she’s swept into warm arms when she waves it open.

“Uncle Stiles!” she squeals.

“It’s about time,” Jennifer scolds lightly, but her eyes are wet with happiness when he kisses her rouge cheek.

“Traffic was terrible.”

“Excuses, excuses,” tsks Victoria who bats his affection away with a wooden spoon and a quick wink. Stiles’ reply is knocked out of him when Emilia crashes into his legs and sends them sprawling onto the floor. They flop around like fish on a rocky deck before Stiles pulls both Diana and Emilia up onto his hips and deposits them gently onto the counter.

Barely a minute passes before Victoria hands Stiles his usual cup of tea and by then he’s learned all there is to learn about Mrs. Boyd’s classroom. Stiles makes a mental note to stop by and thank her for keeping an eye out for his nieces. Diana drags him to the greenroom to show him the resurrected plants and Emilia lights a row of candles with a faint whistle. He lets the girls wow him with their magic before waving his hand and the girls watch in awe as his cup floats across the room until it settles down on the cabinet he’s leaning against.

“Show off,” Jennifer mutters and ushers the girls upstairs for bedtime.

They protest and it’s only Stiles’ promise that he’s not going to vanish before they wake up that helps them, reluctantly, into bed. While Victoria gets them settled, Jennifer nudges Stiles towards Allison’s door and tells him she’s glad he’s back before going to tidy up the downstairs.

The door creaks, but Allison doesn’t stir.

Stiles slides into the room and pauses to study the lump slowly inhaling and exhaling in perfect time with his lungs. Lifting the pale sheet, Stiles slides into bed and watches Allison slowly open her eyes as if this were a common occurrence; as if they were kids again. She doesn’t even hesitate, “We were so happy.”

Stiles feels her tears before they can escape and he winds his limbs around her when she shrinks into herself; curling into a ball in hopes of making the storm hurt less. Her sobs echo in Stiles’ ears, but they don’t leave the safety of their fort beneath the sheets. He runs his fingers though her wilted hair and lets her cry until he feels he might burst from the strength of her sadness. By the time she’s cried herself out, their heartbeats have synched up and she feels calmer than she has in years.

Head cushioned on his shoulder, she asks him to tell her about the world and he does.

“Wait, his name is Theo Raeken?” Allison’s disbelief could color the sky magenta and Stiles grins sheepishly into his arm.

“Like Lahey sounds any more normal.”

Allison waves away his teasing with a pillow aimed at his head and his hands rise in surrender before she can launch it across the bed. The fireplace fills the room with warmth and crackles every time Stiles almost rolls within its reach. Allison folds the candy wrappers into tiny cranes as Stiles tops off his wine glass and she gestures for him to continue.

“He’s… intense Allison. And so strong, strong enough to survive the curse.”

Stiles looks down in regret and the barest hint of fear flashes across his face. It makes Allison’s stomach roll and she unconsciously crosses her arms across her middle to hold it steady. Already she wants to beg him to stay, but she can’t open her mouth and a voice inside her says it wouldn’t be fair to ask such a thing. Stiles is vibrant and alive in a way she’s never seen and no matter what her gut says, she can’t take that away from him.

“Just, be careful.”

Stiles smiles at her warning. It hasn’t been but an hour and she’s back to mothering him like he’s an errant cub. It makes him feel loved in a way Theo never does and he promises before asking for a piece of chocolate.

Morning dawns and they’re back in bed staring at each other as if memorizing all the changes they missed. Allison has faint laugh lines around her lips and Stiles’ buzz cut is long gone. Their eyes on opposite ends of the color spectrum –Allison’s a deep chocolate and Stiles’ a warm honey – both sets bore dark circles beneath them. Though years have passed, they can still see the kids they once were in each other’s faces.

Stiles can hear the house come to life as Diana and Emilia rush past the door, giggling all the way down the stairs and Allison’s smile reminds him of Claudia.

“Do you forgive our mother?” he asks.

Allison turns the question over and over in her mind until she can picture her mother dancing around the kitchen, barefoot and giddy, with her father.

“Sometimes.”

She doesn’t ask Stiles if he does, because she already knows his answer.

“Well you’re never gonna forgive yourself if you don’t get up, get dressed, and wash your goddamn hair because it’s icky,” Stiles pretends to vomit and Allison smacks his arm hard enough to make the skin turn pink briefly: Her indignant squawk causing Stiles to snicker into her pillow before continuing his ‘pep-talk’. “And raise those beautiful girls of yours. You’re so resilient Ali, you’ll get through this.”

He doesn’t let her respond, choosing to kiss the bridge of her nose before sliding out of bed when her eyes slide shut. It won’t hurt her, the sleeping kiss: Stiles has planted that spell on her so many time it’s a wonder she hasn’t crafted a charm to counteract it. He doesn’t want to say goodbye to her again, so as Allison’s soft exhales follow him out of the room Stiles drafts an apology letter and goes to walk his nieces to school.

\- - - - - - - - - -

The next morning a born-again Allison bounces down the steps.

She opens up her own herbal cosmetics store a month later, filled with home remedies and maybe just a pinch of something else. She hires her old high school friends Kira and Malia to help her run it and they jump at the chance to see her up and about. Kira’s husband Scott is a willing guinea pig whenever Allison crafts something new and by the rate that Scott consumes her mint oatmeal shaving cream, she’s betting it’ll be a huge success.

It is.

The following weeks bring an influx of business and a dizzying dozen of regulars who eye her not with trepidation, but with anticipation and delight. Allison is once more a productive member of society and she makes sure to reconnect with Erica and Boyd; Isaac’s closest friends.

Diana and Emilia have taken to school like ducks to water, but unfortunately not everyone is as taken with them. When Allison hears the familiar taunt being shouted on the other side of her glass window, she bites her tongue and races outside to see Emilia crying and Diana pointing her finger.

“Diana no!” she yells, but it’s too late.

“I hope you get chicken pox!”

Immediately everyone in the circle steps back and a couple women cross themselves before dragging their children away. Mrs. Whittemore glares daggers at Allison as she pulls her son close as if she can protect him from Diana’s spell. The street clears faster than when Victoria and Jennifer go shopping for Yule and dread fills Allison until it sinks in her gut like a stone. She bends down and wraps a hand around Emilia and Diana’s arms. She tries not to hurt them, but panic makes her grip tighter than it should be.

“What were you thinking? We do not cast, we do not put hexes on people!”

Allison grips Diana’s arm until she stops pulling away and meets her dead on: Ocean blue eyes pierce Allison, but she does not relent.

“What do you care? You never do magic! You couldn’t even cast if you tried!”

Diana’s words sting and Allison lets go. She hears Emilia tell Diana she shouldn’t have said that and to apologize, but Diana ignores her. They hold hands all the way home and don’t speak to Allison until the next day. Allison’s too busy being angry at her aunts to care that her daughters avoid her, but her anger is swiftly forgotten the next night when she sees a sign of ill omen in the sky.

Walking to the mailbox to send a letter to Stiles that is easily three days overdue, Allison looks up and sees a red moon glaring down at her. When the phone rings, terror fills her veins like ice and she’s already reached the front door before Jennifer and answers it.

“It’s Stiles!” she whispers, white as a ghost and Allison nods. “I know.”

Her hands grip the phone so tight she can feel her knuckles crack.

“Stiles, Stiles what is it? What’s wrong?”

His voice barely breaks through the static, but it’s as plain as day to Allison’s ears.

“Can you come get me?”

Allison grabs the first coat on the rack as the Aunts assure her that they’ll look after the girls while she’s gone.

“Don’t worry about them. Just get to Stiles and bring him home.”

Victoria whispers a blessing into Allison’s hair while they embrace and Jennifer hands her an amulet before she bolts to the car. She drives eighty the entire way to Stiles’ motel just outside of Modesto and throws it in park next to his Jeep, Matilda.

Before Allison can get his room number, Stiles come running down the steps to her left with a metal bat in his hands. Blood’s dripping down his temple and his eye is practically swollen shut. He slams into her and grabs her arm before pulling violently.

“He’s a werewolf! Run!”

Allison can’t remember the last time she was so scared, but her body reacts to Stiles’ fear and she’s following him to his car. Suddenly a howl rips through the air and it raises every hair on her body until she’s nearly choking on her panic. Stiles swears when his hands slip off the Jeep handle and Allison isn’t quick enough to shout out a warning when Theo comes up behind them and grabs Stiles by the back of his neck.

With eyes glowing a sickly yellow and claws tipped with blood, Theo growls around his fangs, “Get in and drive or I’ll kill him.”

A thousand replies weigh on her tongue; the first one beginning with ‘fuck’ and ending with ‘you’, but she relents and slides into the driver’s seat as Theo throws Stiles into the back. His claws pinch the skin of his throat and leave tiny red smears of blood in their wake. Allison doesn’t ask where to go: She just pulls out of the parking lot and drives down the dark road while glancing in the rearview mirror every time Stiles exhales sharply.

Theo keeps busy with Stiles’ neck, leaning in to sniff and nuzzle the pink flesh until Allison can feel Stiles’ revulsion in the back of her throat. He speaks words like ‘forever’ and ‘mine’ into the silence of the Jeep and it makes Allison see red until her anger rocks the sky with bouts of thunder and lightning. A bolt strikes a light pole to their left and sparks coat the Jeep as cars swerve behind them.

“Oh she’s feisty,” Theo nips at Stiles’ jaw, “I like her.”

Allison’s grip on the steering wheel borders on painful and Stiles can hear her grinding her teeth together as Theo continues to speak.

“Maybe she should stick with us. I’m feeling very into siblings right now.”

Slamming on the breaks, Allison spins around and uncorks the bottle in tucked between her thighs.

“Go to hell,” she curses and tosses the thick black power into Theo’s face. He jerks back when the wolfsbane burns his skin and Stiles ignores the stinging across this throat and throws himself out of the car with Allison. It all happens in a matter of seconds, but Allison feels like it takes hours before she’s able to wrap her arms around Stiles and pull him back from the Jeep. Theo’s howls fill the air until he begins choking, the wolfsbane coating his throat and sinking into his system.

“You bitch!” he gags, stumbling blindly out of the car and falling to his knees as he convulses. Allison links hands with Stiles and wills the wolfsbane into his bloodstream until black ooze pours from his mouth with each ragged cough. With a final jerk, Theo’s body stills and the night holds her breath until Stiles swears.

“He’s fucking dead, holy shit!”

Letting him have his freak out, Allison goes to the back of the Jeep and pulls out a medical kit so she can address the scratches across Stiles’ throat. By the time she’s prepared a poultice to both soothe and protect Stiles from whatever werewolf claws carry (bacterial and spiritual) Stiles is propped up against boulder with his hands resting on his knees.

“I can’t believe you killed him Ali.” Stiles eventually recovers when he feels the cool cloth against his skin.

“I can’t believe you keep bottles of wolfsbane and mountain ash underneath your car seat,” Allison returns and Stiles’ answering grin is mischievous.

“At least you heard my mirror message. Color me impressed.”

Allison snorted, “Just because I haven’t practiced in a while doesn’t mean I’m suddenly incompetent.”

“Fair enough,” Stiles concedes with a shrug.

The poultice does the job and Stiles lets Allison help him to his feet without feeling the sting or pull Theo left behind. He does a quick mental check and when he’s sure everything’s green across the board he tells Allison to grab Theo’s legs and she does so without protest. They’ll have to bury him in their aunt’s garden, but as long as they’re quick and quiet the aunts will never know.

The drive home is quiet, both of them taking the time to digest everything that had happened. Jennifer calls when they’re back within city limits and tells Allison they had taken the girls with them to Melissa McCall’s for the solstice celebration.

Torn between relief and exasperation Allison makes her promise that they won’t encourage the girls to dance naked underneath the full moon.

“Oh honey you know the nudity is completely optional!” Victoria chimes and it doesn’t assure Allison one bit, but she lets it go and wishes them a happy solstice before hanging up and grabbing the shovel Stiles brought her. They dug in silence and when Theo’s body thumped against the cold Earth Allison had to stop and let Stiles pull her from a panic attack.

“I killed him!” she shouted, hysterical and shaking like an autumn leaf not ready to fall.

“He was an omega Ali, no one will come looking for him,” Stiles assures with a surety that calms her fragile nerves.

They cling to each other as they trail inside and proceed to drown their worries in tea until the sun peaks over the horizon and fills the house with light. The smell of coffee wafts into the greenhouse where Allison carefully looks after the plants and when Stiles brings her a cup they hear the front door fly open.

“Uncle Stiles!” Diana and Emilia cry when they see him and they let him put down his cup before tackling him.

“We didn’t even have to tell them he was here,” Jennifer beams, “they just knew.”

Allison’s smile is tight, but when Victoria cups her cheek it melts into sincerity and she squeezes Victoria’s arm in gratitude before pulling away to ply her daughters from Stiles’ shaky legs. Jennifer’s gasp draws her attention and Stiles flushes underneath everyone’s eyes when his neck is suddenly on display.

“Take your sister upstairs to play for a little bit sweetie,” Allison tells Diana and she’s surprised when Diana doesn’t protest.

When the girl’s steps have faded, Victoria pins Allison and Stiles with a sharp glare.

“I take it the mutt that did this to him has been taken care of?”

“He’s currently fertilizing your roses outside,” Stiles quips and Allison smacks his arm sharply before covering her eyes with her hand and running them into her hair with a shaky exhale. Instead of the anger she’s expecting, Allison is surprised by Victoria’s exclamation of pride and Jennifer’s hug filled with sympathy.

“Should we be expecting an aggravated Alpha any time soon?” Victoria asks and Stiles shakes his head, “He was an omega.”

“Good. Jenny, let’s go outside and do a quick cleansing.”

Jennifer gathers the supplies from the cabinet and follows Victoria outside where they spend the next fifteen minutes burning sage and chanting over the freshly turned earth.

“Our life is weird,” Allison mumbles to herself and Stiles’ snort of agreement makes her grin in spite of the ill feeling churning in her gut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are not enough sibling!Stiles and Allison fics out there so I decided to take one of my favorite films/books and give it my own little twist (I just hope I can do it well.)  
> Take that Theo!
> 
> I just really, really, hate him okay? Killing him off felt wonderful. Thankfully, there's only two chapters to this fic and if I continue to write every night I should have it up by next week. If you're familiar with the movie you know that stuff is about to get real. Granted, there are no werewolves in the film nor the book, but I really wanted to put as much magic into this as I could.
> 
> There are a couple of more important tags I need to add, but I'm going to wait until chapter two is done. Let's just say I might be bringing back a couple baddies from the earlier seasons to liven things up a bit.


	2. Heat of the Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I lost my internet for a couple of days recently and went ahead and finished chapter two fairly quickly. I also added a third chapter - don't hate me - and it's done as well. I need to play with it a little, but I hate making people wait for something that's already done, so I should have it up by Wednesday at the latest.

The following week comes and goes smoothly, enticing Allison to drop her guard.

Stiles is the picture of relaxation as he settles into the attic, spending his time between Allison’s shop and the greenhouse where he tends to a cluster of hydrangeas. He lets the town gossip wash over him until it turns to static and Stiles is sure to behave himself while accompanying Diana and Emilia to school. When he’s not using Allison’s products and coaxing violet buds to bloom, Stiles buries himself in various bestiaries he stole from Theo.

Allison joins him in research when everyone eventually heads to bed and their nights consist of an overwhelming dose of caffeine and snark which they wield against each other when the grogginess sets in. While she won’t admit it out loud, not that she has to of course; Allison is relieved to have Stiles back in the house where she can keep an eye on him. They settle into a quiet routine and when it’s dashed to pieces, no one is overly surprised.

When they come, Allison is home alone.

Victoria and Jennifer left in a hurry when they got an emergency message from an old friend of theirs in Arizona two days ago. Stiles was knee-deep in research at the library and Kira had taken the girls for a weekend sleepover. Sun McCall was the one of the few children who wasn’t afraid of Diana and Emilia, so she had become a constant in the Owens’ household and vice versa.

Able to be by herself, Allison allowed herself an indulgent lie in as well as a cupcake for breakfast. When a sharp knock on the front door pulls her attention away from her mother’s cook book, Allison feels a gentle probing at Stiles’ wards and goes on high alert quicker than she can blink. She contemplates not answering the door, but she knows whoever’s on the other side of the door knows that she’s there as sure as she knows that Stiles is on his way home, so Allison wipes her hands on the cloth by the sink and slides a knife into the side pocket of her sage apron.

It won’t do much, but it’s better than nothing.

The first thought Allison has when she takes in the two figures standing on her welcome mat is that they’re lost; the second thought must show on her face because the woman smirks slightly as Allison’s eyes rake up and down her frame. Flushing, Allison clears her throat, “Can I help you?”

“I would hope so,” the woman begins, “we’re looking for someone whose last known location was your backyard.”

Ice fills Allison’s veins and before she knows it, her hand is raised in defense and the two go flying off the front porch. She slams the door the second Stiles comes dashing in through the back door, eyes bright and heart racing in time with Allison’s.

“I thought you said he was an omega?” Allison hisses when he drags her away from the door.

“He was! There was no way someone would let them into their pack!”

Clearly recovered, their guests begin banging on the door and Stiles shoves Allison behind him when it’s thrown open, hinges creaking in protest. Surprisingly, the woman looks contrite and the man – eyes blue and claws extended, pulls back and lets her do the talking.

She goes to take a step forward, but something stops her. Eyes searching, her eyes land on the set of white crystals along the trim and she hums, impressed.

“So, maybe I should’ve phrased that better,” she admits and Allison shoots her a look clearly displaying her agreement.

“Who are you?” Stiles demands, hands itching to send them from his house.

“My name’s Lydia Martin and this is Derek Hale. We’re part of a pack in New York who were in the middle of a hunt for a rogue omega when he disappeared.”

“I take it you had something to do with that?” Derek asks once he’s able to regain his composure.

Stiles snorts, “Actually my sister’s the one who did the honors.”

Lydia and Derek eye Allison skeptically even though she had just tossed them five feet in the air and into a bush. Allison rolls her eyes and steps out from behind Stiles with a quick brush of her fingers against his and stands next to him with arms crossed.

“He was going to kill my brother – I did what I had to do.”

“Oh, we’re not here to avenge him, if anything I want to congratulate you. Theo Raeken is wanted by several packs along the East coast for trying to become an alpha by forcing packs to destroy themselves.”

“Yeah, that sounds like him, power-hungry bastard,” Stiles spits and Derek looks down to hide his grin. Allison doesn’t have time to watch her brother charm another victim so she gets straight to the point, “Then why are you here?”

Lydia’s hazel eyes bore into Allison’s and she’s aware of the skip in her heartbeat that makes Stiles send her a curious look.

“Because we have to either bring the body back to New York or dispose of if properly to prevent his resurrection.”

Allison and Stiles stare at her dumbly.

“I’m sorry, but I could’ve sworn you said he can come back to life.” Stiles’ disbelief fills the room. Color stricken from Allison’s rosy complexion, she watches in horror as Lydia nods and Derek shrugs as if to say, ‘yeah what can you do?’

“There are some wolves who, while ultimately turned him away, agree with his reckless ideals. We believe on of his disciples is on her way here.”

“You’re serious – holy shit Ali they’re serious!” Stiles croaks.

“We wouldn’t be here if we weren’t,” Derek huffs in frustration, but Stiles just smirks playfully at his scowl.

“Stiles,” Allison starts, “let them in and I’ll grab the aunt’s book.”

“Didn’t they take it with them?” Stiles asks as he walks across the room to break the circle of stones.

“They did, but thankfully Victoria decided to make a copy after Jennifer almost set it on fire a while back.”

Free to move around, Lydia follows Allison into the kitchen and Derek trails after Stiles who bounds up the stairs two at a time and nearly brains himself on the landing. Allison chuckles when she hears Stiles’ shriek and turns to ask Lydia if she’d like anything to drink, to which Lydia replies, “Yes, I’d love some tea.”

She sets out an extra cup for Derek, just in case, and portions out three different teas in her colorful shark infusers Diana and Emilia bought her for Christmas the year before: Pomegranate for Lydia, Chamomile for Derek, and Chai for her and Stiles because it reminded her of sleepless nights spent on the porch swing with their mother. As they steep, Lydia wanders into the greenhouse and runs her fingers along the thriving flora. Allison leans against the doorway and waits; she’s not sure for what exactly, but then Lydia turns and her smile is soft and it’s an answer Allison didn’t know she needed.

“They’re lovely,” Lydia praises.

The pink dusting Allison’s cheeks remind Lydia of peonies and she briefly wonders which is softer; Allison’s skin or a flower’s petals.

“Thank you,” Allison eventually replies before grabbing a book resting on the table in the middle of the room and shuffling back into the kitchen. Sighing, Lydia follows and is pleasantly surprised when she sees Stiles and Derek fixing their cups of tea.

“Drink up! My sis makes the best cup this side of the Mississippi.” Stiles winks and Allison just shakes her head when Derek and Lydia both hum in satisfaction.

They spend the day gathering supplies and going over the ritual – not wanting to waste any more time on pleasantries when danger was a hop, skip, and a jump away. Stiles orders pizza when it becomes apparent that it’s going to be a long night and Kira so Allison can wish Diana and Emilia a good night. Despite the circumstances, the atmosphere is comfortable, safe, and it helps Allison let down her guard. When Stiles pulls out the blender, she already knows what he’s thinking and she laughs sharply causing Derek and Lydia turn.

“Midnight margaritas!” Stiles exclaims and it doesn’t take much to convince Lydia and Derek they’ve done enough for one night.

“You know werewolves can’t get drunk right?” Derek informs, but Stiles’ sly smile says otherwise.

“Trust me; my recipe has been perfected over the years. It’ll knock anyone and anything on its ass.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Derek scoffs.

Offended, Stiles uncorks several bottles and mutters darkly underneath his breath until he sets a glass in front of Derek with a flourish.

“Be my guest,” he says sweetly and Derek sneers before downing the whole glass in an impressive display that leaves Stiles’ speechless until Derek stumbles and bashes his hip into the kitchen table.

“Way to uphold your Alpha dignity Derek,” Lydia heckles and Derek bears his fangs as he tries to right himself. 

Allison assures Derek that everyone underestimates Stiles’ bartending abilities at first. “Our poor friend Scott ended up singing a love ballad to the moon: Naked.”

Stiles howls with laughter, “Kira’s never gonna let him forget it either.”

Allison’s story makes Derek feel better and they spend the next hour flipping through their memories for the greatest love songs of all time and then belting them across the table. Flushed and drunk on more than alcohol, Lydia and Derek lean against each other and watch as Stiles and Allison dance around the kitchen, giggling and swaying like two nymphs high on the changing season.

Suddenly, a gust of wind rattles against the windows and the broom in the corner sharply falls to the floor.

Allison has never been shocked into sobriety before, so it’s a disorienting sensation to go from relaxed to on edge in a split second. Stiles’ grip on her arm leaves a bruise the next morning, but for now it anchors her to the moment and she can feel the anxiety in the room climb until Lydia slowly approaches the broom.

Derek’s eyes jump from window to window and he can see the patch of earth where Theo was buried. He waits, senses slowly sharpening until he can hear everyone’s heartbeat and smell their apprehension.

“Company’s coming,” Allison whispers, fear turning her buzz into a bad trip and her hands fly up to her throat the same time Stiles’ does.

“We need to do this now,” Lydia’s voice is cutting in the silence and all Allison can do is nod and grab the bag of supplies and follow Derek outside.

Lydia and Allison craft the circle as Derek and Stiles dig up the body. No one says a word, focused on the task at hand. They lay the body on a bed of twigs and branches and Stiles walks in circles around it; tossing a mixture of salt and sage onto the ground as Lydia and Allison chant softly. Derek armed with fluid and matches, waits until Lydia gives him the signal and then sets the body aflame. A loud hiss fills the air, but it dissipates quickly and they don’t move until there is nothing but ash left.

Stiles and Allison then throw the ashes back into the hole and cover it while willing Theo to leave. The sun hangs low in the horizon by the time the ceremony is complete and they’re all frayed to the touch like live wires.

“Is it over?” Allison asks.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” Lydia’s whisper caresses Allison’s ear and she shivers, wrapping her arms around her shoulders when Stiles looks at her questioningly. She shakes her head and silently implores Stiles to let it go: He does, but not before flicking his eyes between her and Lydia curiously.

“I doubt it’ll be that easy,” Derek confesses and he looks sorry to be the one to say as much. Kicking a tuff of grass, Stiles shoves his hands into his pockets and reluctantly asks Lydia and Derek to stay.

“There’s a good B&B in town and we might need your help if this comes back to bite us in the ass.”

“You mean when,” Allison retorts bitterly.

Stiles winces, “Yeah.”

Lydia and Derek exchange looks and they agree to stick around. When they leave, Stiles walks them to their car, Allison lets her nerves take over and she cleans the kitchen vigorously until Kira drops the girls off. Wisely, Stiles stays out of her way and volunteers to keep his Diana and Emilia preoccupied while Allison fights off her mental breakdown with bleach. Jennifer calls around noon and Allison tells her everything.

“Do you need us to come home sweetie?” she asks and Allison can picture Jennifer throwing her clothes haphazardly into her suitcase. The image calms her and Allison spends the next ten minutes assuring them both that they can handle it.

“I’m more interested in this Lydia Martin you keep mentioning,” Victoria says when Jennifer relinquishes control of the phone to her sister. “I can feel you blushing all the way over here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Allison protests, but she knows it’s a losing battle.

Stiles eventually comes downstairs and hijacks the phone so Allison can make them all lunch. Diana and Emilia dominate the conversation: Telling Allison and Stiles both about Sun’s new treehouse and the baby growing in Kira’s stomach.

“Mr. Scott also said that you need to call him so you both can hang out,” Diana informs Stiles and his puppy eyes come out until Allison dismisses him from the table.

“Give him and Kira my love please,” Allison calls and Stiles throws a promise over his shoulder before bounding out the front door.

“Honestly, he’s like a child sometimes,” she laments and the girls laugh around their sandwiches.

Emilia helps Allison with the dishes while Diana washes off the table. Something catches her eye however, and she backs away from the widow to pull on Allison’s shirt.

“Mom, there’s a man standing by the roses.”

The sound glass shattering startles Diana and she whips around to see Allison wrapping a towel around her hand, face pale and eyes wide with alarm.

“Mom!” Emilia cries, “Are you okay?”

Allison tries her best to calm both Emilia and Diana, but they feed off her own emotions and work themselves into a state. Lydia finds them curled together underneath the table minutes later when she drops by with Stiles and Derek.

“Jesus Chris Ali!”

Stiles falls to his knees and looks over the gash in Allison’s palm while trying to hold Emilia who crawls into his arms. Before he can open his mouth, Lydia joins him on the floor with a first aid kit.

“I’ll take care of Allison You and Derek should take the girls upstairs.”

Allison’s pleading stare helps Stiles leave her behind and he doesn’t even blink twice when he sees Derek holding Diana’s hand securely. They usher the girls upstairs and try to distract them, but they don’t fall for it for a second.

“Did that man hurt Mom?” Emilia asks peering up at Stiles with wide eyes that he couldn’t dream of lying to.

“Yeah chipmunk, he did.”

Emilia’s mouth tightens in a firm line and she nods bravely, trying to hide how upset Stiles’ answer made her. Diana pulls away from Derek and pulls Emilia into a tight embrace.

“Don’t worry,” she says, “Uncle Stiles and the Aunts will get rid of him.”

“Are you going to help?” Emilia peers around Diana’s head and addresses Derek, which surprises him although he doesn’t show it.

“Yes, Lydia – the woman downstairs – and I are going to help.”

Satisfied, they push the incident from their minds and rush off to their bedroom where they can regroup. Stiles slides against the wall and exhales slowly before thanking Derek.

“You’re good with them,” he muses and Derek’s bashful smile makes something in Stiles’ gut tighten.

“I had a lot of siblings growing up.”

A shadow passes over Derek’s face and Stiles decides not to push, opting instead to heave himself up and motion for Derek to join him downstairs. When they enter the kitchen, Stiles is amused to see Allison and Lydia leap apart as if burned.

He inspects Lydia’s work and she waves his gratitude away like it were smoke when he thanks her for patching Allison up.

“I’m okay,” she promises, but Stiles stares regretfully down at the neat little stitches that march along her palm like tiny ants. If they were alone, he’d allow himself a display of affection, but instead he clears his throat and pulls away; marching towards the back door and throwing it open until it slams against the wall and shakes the glass.

“Listen to me you son of a bitch, if you even think about hurting my sister and her kids I will drag your soul to hell myself! You hear me?”

Half-mad Stiles tears at the rose vines until his bloody hands are being pulled away by a firm grip.

“Stiles – Stiles that’s enough!” Allison shouts as Derek fights to pull him back into the house.

“I’ll fucking kill you again!”

Once inside, Stiles breaks free of Derek’s hold and throws himself into a chair and Allison glares him into submission so she can bandage his hands. They sting, but hold an incredible warmth he can only attribute to Derek’s touch and he tries his best to ignore the way it travels up his arms and through his chest. He doesn’t have time for this, but then he’s reminded of something Victoria often told him.

“Trouble is just like love: it comes in unannounced and takes over before you've had a chance to reconsider or even to think.”

Stiles snorts, trouble was sleeping in his backyard and Derek was staring at him with concern in his forest eyes and it makes Stiles want to squirm. People like him didn’t fall in love; the curse saw to that pretty quick. Allison’s tender touch across his cheek pulls him back and he grins ruefully at her until she rolls her eyes and knocks her forehead against his. They wore defeat like identical sweaters; worn and riddled with holes that’d been poorly patched. Leave it to them to fall in love at the same time; at the worst time.

Chuckling lightly, Allison pulls back and ruffles Stiles’ hair; just managing to dodge his lose limbs that come up to shove her away. Lydia and Derek watch their exchange and the longing in their eyes make Allison and Stiles long for the gift of invisibility. Eventually, Lydia speaks and the spell is broken, so to speak.

“It’s probably not wise to threaten Theo’s spirit.”

Stiles bristles, “Yeah well, apparently burning his body did nothing so forgive me if I’m a little upset.”

Lydia’s unimpressed stare makes Stiles’ skin crawl so he slides out of the chair and storms upstairs before any of them can stop him.

“Not that I support Stiles’ reaction, but he has a point. I thought the ritual last night was supposed to stop this from happening.” Allison leans against the counter, arms crossed and hand throbbing.

“It was supposed to stop Theo’s body from rising, but his spirit can still be summoned. To become corporeal, he’ll have to find a host.” Derek grimaces.

A headache begins to squeeze Allison’s temple until she can’t ignore its pressing any longer and she starts a pot for tea. She doesn’t ask what’s next and doesn’t acknowledge the sound of Derek leaving the room. Allison operates quickly and makes Lydia’s cup along with her own as if it were a normal day. The smell of mint fills her nose and she’s able to inhale deeply without feeling silly when Lydia does the same. An aura of peace settles around them and they drink their tea on the back porch outside where the smell of honeysuckle tickles their senses.

Small talk feels pointless so Allison basks in Lydia’s soothing presence and eventually the peace is shattered by Emilia’s squeals as she bursts through the front door with Stiles on her heals.

“No Uncle Stiles, don’t get me!”

Stiles ignores her pleas and swings Emilia over his shoulder and spins. Diana, looking regal in her crown, urges Derek forward from her position on his shoulders.

“Onward steed! We must rescue the princess from the evil dragon!”

“Hey!” Stiles yells indignant, but he doesn’t miss a beat, and spins out of Derek’s reach until eventually he trips over his own feet and collapses in the grass where Emilia proceeds to tickle him.

“I give, I give. Oh be merciful dearest princess. I just wanted to be friends!”

Tears from laughing prick at Allison’s eyes, but they also hold a dull sadness when she recalls how Isaac used to dote on Emilia and Diana when they were little. Lydia, sensing the change in atmosphere, hesitantly reaches out and lays a hand on Allison’s arm. The touch startles her, but the gesture itself makes Allison’s tears run faster until she has to excuse herself: Tea cold and heart sore with the knowledge the curse would take Lydia from her too if she wasn’t careful.

\- - - - - - - - - -

Victoria calls the next day to inform them that they were on their way home.

“Alan taught us a ritual or two so we’ll be able to help with the spirit currently killing my begonias.”

Since Diana saw Theo in the backyard, various plants were slowly dying around the house. The ones in the greenhouse were safe, but it worried Allison to the point she didn’t want to leave the house for fear he’d find a way in. Stiles and Derek promise to stick close so Allison can head to work and when Lydia shows up, wide, innocent smile when she hands Allison a bottle of witch-hazel cleanser, Allison finds herself reluctant to leave work early.

Lydia brings her coffee in the morning and then a Panini for lunch and Allison’s forced to endure hours of endless teasing from Kira and Malia.

“I wish Scott brought me lunch,” Kira pouts and Malia’s shaking shoulders give away her amusement even though Allison can’t see her face.

“She’s just helping me out with some stuff around the house,” Allison protests, but Malia snorts.

“Yeah, especially in the bedroom I bet.”

“Malia!” Allison admonishes while trying to fight down her blush.

Kira chokes on her mouthful of water and even she shoots Malia a look, but Malia just shrugs and goes back to shelving when the bell above the door rings. Lydia’s holding a bag from the pastry shop down the road and Allison melts a little when it turns out it’s filled with her favorite cinnamon apple turnovers.

“I didn’t know what you liked,” Lydia tells Malia and Kira, “so I stuck with chocolate because who doesn’t like chocolate?”

Kira thanks Lydia profusely while Malia gives her a ‘thumbs up’ as she takes a huge bite of the muffin. Satisfied, Lydia asks Allison if she minded walking her back to the hotel before heading to her place.

“Derek called and reminded me that I left something crucial behind.”

Before Allison can answer, Malia’s shoving her from behind the counter. “Kira and I can handle closing. Go have a life I can live vicariously through.”

Stuttering, Allison watches Kira wave as she takes Allison’s place by the register and suddenly she’s through the door and standing on the sidewalk with an amused Lydia. Malia glares at her through the window and Allison throws her hands up in surrender and falls in step with Lydia. They take note of dark storm clouds not far off in the distance and rush to the hotel before the sky can open up.

“Your coworkers are nice,” Lydia begins and Allison laughs.

“I’d say never employ your friends from high school, but they’re part of the few people who never feared Stiles and I. Growing up, we weren’t exactly popular.”

Lydia shakes her head, “People fear what they can’t understand and it makes them do hateful things.”

Allison wants to ask, to compare notes and scars, but she refrains and instead hums in agreement. Lydia grabs the black bag at the end of her bed and hesitates before pulling something out of it and handing it to Allison. It’s a letter – her letter that she wrote to Stiles the night she killed Theo.

Shaking, Allison runs her fingers over the folds which tell her it had been open and read again and again. “How did you get this?”

“The motel was the first place we went and this was waiting at the front desk. Derek told me not to read it, just to follow the address but I was curious.” Lydia confesses.

She eyes Allison hesitantly and it occurs to Allison that she should be furious. Her letter was private, it was emotional: She poured her soul into that paper and ink the way she did in every letter to Stiles. Had it been anyone else, Allison would rip into them, but instead she holds the letter to her chest and asks Lydia what she thought.

“It’s all I’ve been able to think about, all I can see when I close my eyes. I must’ve read your letter a thousand times. I know now, it was your letter more anything else – more than Theo and Derek – that brought me here. It was you Allison.”

Struck speechless, Allison does the only thing she can do. She lurches forward and tangles her hand in Lydia’s soft hair and kisses her ‘til they can’t breathe. Lydia’s back hits the door and Allison apologizes by dragging her lips down Lydia’s throat and nipping lightly at her bottom lip when Lydia arches into her touch. Lost in a desperate haze, Allison find herself sprawled across a bed and Lydia’s perched above her; bracketing Allison’s hips with her legs and leaning down to pepper gentle kisses up her face and stopping above her swollen lips.

Sweeping her tongue along her bottom lip, Allison reaches up and cups’ Lydia’s face: Thumb caressing her rosy cheek before tenderly urging her down so their lips can meet again. They can’t speak, caught up in the rising tension threatening to drown them until the room fills with breathless gasps and pleas for more.

A clap of thunder startles them, but it’s the sudden pain in her gut that makes Allison pull away and cry out.

“Stiles!”

Allison writhes on the bed, the pain a hot poker in her gut until Lydia helps her up and urges her towards the door. She stumbles, but eventually Allison’s able to walk straight and together they race through the town, running up the hill where a thundercloud hangs above the house and the sound of shattering glass can be heard miles away.

Before they can go through the front door, someone goes flying out of the living room window and it takes a split second for Lydia to realize who it is.

“Kate,” she hisses, eyes blazing a vibrant green as the woman hits the cold ground with a thump. Allison can see Diana and Emilia hiding behind Derek who’s close to shifting if his growls are any indication. When they see her, they dart past him and through the front door and collide with Allison’s legs.

“The bad man has Uncle Stiles!”

“You have to do something Mom!”

Allison whips around when she hears a loud screech and watches Lydia tie Kate to one of the poles supporting her clothes line. Lydia then says something and Kate’s protests cut off with a choked curse and then her mouth slams shut; lips sealed together until all she can do is groan and fight against her restraints.

“Give me a reason to kill you – go ahead,” Lydia spits and when Kate lashes out to kick her, Lydia snaps her fingers: Kate goes limp without so much as a whimper.

Allison can feel the color drain from her face when Lydia turns to look at her; hair wild and eyes eerily bright. Still, she leaves Diana and Emilia with her before racing inside to locate Stiles. She finds him prostrate on the floor in the attic bedroom and Derek, fully-shifted, whines when he sees her.

Allison cautiously walks across the wooden floor, ignoring its painful protests the closer she gets to Stiles. Suddenly, he’s pulled vertical and hangs in the air before settling with a sick thump onto his feet. When he opens his eyes, Allison inhales sharply and steps back. Gone are his familiar golden honey orbs and Theo laughs at her horror.

“He’s mine now.”

Derek’s growl reverberates throughout the room and he leans into Allison, ready to knock her out of the way in case Theo attacks.

“I warned you Derek: I told you I’d take everything from you.”

Allison doesn’t hesitate to fling him across the room, arm straight and eyes hard when he smacks his head against a support beam. Stiles’ body falls to the ground, unconscious, and Allison dashes to his side.

“Tell Lydia I need rope,” she tells Derek who is able to convey just enough reproach for her to feel guilty before shaking it off.

“I had no choice. Stiles would’ve done the same.”

Exhaling sharply, Derek trots downstairs and returns, human and clothed, with Victoria and Jennifer trailing behind.

“Oh honey,” Jennifer fusses and she pulls Allison into her arms while Victoria and Derek tie Stiles up and carry him downstairs. Allison allows herself a moment of vulnerability and her tears slip from her eyes without permission. “We don’t have much time.”

The kitchen is a flutter with activity when Allison and Jennifer come down. Diana and Emilia are sipping hot chocolate while Victoria stirs a foul concoction bubbling on the stove. Derek’s with Stiles in the living room, running a cool cloth over his furrowed brow as Stiles shivers and tries to fight off Theo’s possession. Heart aching, Allison steels herself for a string of phone calls that will undoubtedly make her more infamous than her mother.

“Hey Erica, yeah it’s me. So, remember those rumors about me being a witch? Surprise! They’re not rumors. I need your help with something big. Yeah, you heard right. Oh and can you bring a broom with you?”

Thirty minutes and two identical calls later, Allison opens the door and lets Malia, Kira, and Erica inside.

“For the record, I always knew.” Erica confesses before pulling Allison into a fierce hug.

“Yeah, we didn’t want to say anything in case it would upset you, but there’s no way oatmeal and mint mixed together is able to hydrate skin that well.” Malia bumps her hip into Allison’s before wrapping an arm around her shoulder and squeezing.

Kira shrugs, “I figured you’d tell me when you were ready.”

Allison hugs Kira the longest and they both have to look away to blink away the suspicious wetness in their eyes. Malia’s exclamation of surprise draws them to the kitchen where Lydia and Victoria are tossing herbs into the pot while studying Alan’s instructions across the room.

“Can you teach me how to do that?” she asks Allison.

“Where’s Stiles?” Erica asks before Allison can reply and the mood turns somber quickly.

“Grab your broom ladies and we’ll begin.” Jennifer leads them into the living room where Stiles tosses and turns on the hard floor. Drenched in sweat, he mumbles under his breath and cries out in pain with every twitch.

“Oh shit,” Malia whispers and she reaches out for Kira’s hand.

“Gather around him in a circle and place a hand at each end of your brooms so they’re all touching,” Lydia instructs and she goes around helping the others until everyone is in place and the circle is complete.

Derek sits with Diana and Emilia on his lap by the doorway in case he has to rush them to safety. Allison can taste the dread in the air, most of it hers when she realizes they might not be powerful enough – that Theo might win if they fail. Jennifer and Victoria wait for her to gather her thoughts and when she nods, they begin.

Kira and the others aren’t familiar with Latin, but as Victoria chants and Jennifer prays, they pick it up slowly until a gust fills the room and Stiles screams in agony; body contorting violently until Allison feels her bones ache in sympathy.

“Stop it! Stop!  You’re killing him!” Allison yells and she drops to her knees and crawls towards Stiles where he’s thrashing on the floor. He lunges, Theo’s eyes staring daggers into hers and is propelled backward by the circle.

They fall quiet and only the sound Stiles’ harsh breathing can be heard.

Lydia motions to them to lower their brooms and they step back, giving Allison her space as she lies on her side – hand outstretched, but not passing through the barrier. The seconds crawl by until Stiles is able to pull himself towards Allison and he gives up when their eyes met.

“He wants me… just me. You and the girls will be safe. Let him have me…”

She can’t see him though her tears, but Allison shakes her head. “Don’t you dare die on me Stiles Stilinski. Cause you promised, you promised you’d always come back when I needed you and I need you dammit. Okay? I need you.”

A whimper slides from Kira’s mouth and her tears join the others on the floor when the throb of despair becomes too much. Allison can sense Diana and Emilia’s sorrow and it settles something deep inside her soul.

“Alright,” she begins, “get them back in a circle.”

Allison runs upstairs and shoves Stiles’ pocketknife into her pocket before running back down to see everyone – including Diana and Emilia – standing around Stiles. Her heart pounding in her chest, Allison sits back down and calls out to Theo as she slowly pulls a broom away and breaks the circle.

“Alright you bastard, come on. I know you want my power too.”

Yellow eyes peer at her, curious and sinister at the same time.

“That’s it. You want me? Come and get me!”

Quick as a snake, Theo lunges forward and grabs Allison by her arm, pulling her into the circle with all his strength.

“Now!” Lydia shouts and with a deep clap of thunder, everyone grabs hands as Allison breaks Theo’s hold and slices his palm.

“Your blood,” she cuts her palm, “My blood.”

Theo fights, snarling and pushing with all his might, but Allison is stronger. When Lydia and Emilia complete the circle, Allison locks hands with Stiles and light fills the room.

“Our blood!”

Her voice deafens them all and the force of the spell knocks everyone backwards. The light dissipates as quickly as it came and Stiles gasps into Allison’s shoulder until he’s shaking with relief.

“You did it!” he crows weakly, punching the air and kissing Allison between her eyes until neither of them can see straight.

Victoria and Jennifer pull Allison and Stiles to their feet before Theo’s spirit can fall between them and crash into the ground; a pile of smoking ashes. No one moves until Lydia picks up a broom and brandishes it impatiently, “Well, don’t just stand there!

“Time to clean house!” Kira rallies and together they sweep Theo into the back yard where Stiles and Allison pour the large vat of potion onto the grave. The grass shrivels and hisses and dies, but ultimately stills and they’re able to breathe for what feels like the first time in weeks.

Malia throws her head back and howls, shocking everyone until Derek joins her; his elation evident and catchy. Shrugging, Stiles and Allison follow suit and the howls echo through the streets below, but they’re too delighted to care about the rumors tomorrow will bring.

“Let them talk,” Victoria rests her head on Jennifer’s shoulder; watching Allison and Stiles embrace, shaky and full of life, “their words have no power over us.”

The celebration carries on well into the morning, but the sun brings with it a callousness none of them are ready to face. As skittish as a new kit, Stiles avoids Derek like the plague and hides his depression in sleeplessness and spells until he locks himself away in the attic. Lydia, angered on Derek’s behalf, confronts Allison outside as Stiles watches from above.

“He is a coward!”

Allison recoils as if struck, but gathers herself quickly, “He was just possessed by his ex-lover. Some time to recover is not unreasonable.”

“He shouldn’t have given Derek false hope,” Lydia replies voice hard and spine unyielding.

“You have no idea what it’s like, Lydia, being born into this family. The people we love end up dead: The curse killed to our parents and my husband.”

Shaking her head, pity filling her eyes like a shadow, Lydia turns swiftly and walks away. Reaching the gate, she pauses and looks back at Allison.

“Curses only have power when you believe them. And I don't.”

That night, Lydia and Derek leave Beacon Hills behind; taking with them a pair of hearts and leaving theirs behind in exchange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE DON'T HATE ME
> 
> Okay, so like I really felt after everything that had happened in this chapter I couldn't just end it with 'they ended happily ever after' so that's why I added the 3rd one. Yes, there will be a happy ending like the movie. I just wanted to flesh out their relationships more and also deal with the curse itself.
> 
> Obviously, I've taken a couple liberties and played with both the movie/book plot so if you're familiar with either you'll notice some events happen out of order, but I'm pleased with the flow I created. There are sill some very important scenes coming up in chapter three along with more quotes from both the book and the movie. I hope you're as excited as I am for the last chapter. 
> 
> I promise it'll end well.


	3. The Sum of Itself

 “I lied to you.”

Allison looks up from her journal, glasses sliding down her nose and hair a restless nest perched precariously upon her head. It’s been three days since Stiles’ self-imposed incarceration and she’s been spending most of her free time lounging on his bed with work projections and old enchantments. It’s the first thing he’s said to her all day.

“When?” she asks giving Stiles her undivided attention, which makes him squirm around in the nest of quilts both Diana and Emilia concocted for him before they rushed off to school earlier that morning.

“That day we made wishes on the fireflies, when I told you I wished for you to be happy.”

Seeing the wounded look on her face, Stiles hastens to explain.

“No, I mean I did wish for that – of course, but I also wished for something else: Something I didn’t tell you.”

Stiles’ gets twitchy when he’s anxious, when he feels like he’s trapped and Allison can see him wishing for a hole to open up and swallow him whole so she reaches out and links their fingers together until he stills. “What else did you wish for?”

“Derek.”

Startled, Allison jolts back a little, but Stiles’ grip tightens so she edges closer until they’re knee to knee and she can make out the strand of gray hair nestled in a field of brown.

“I must have caught a dozen of them that night and yeah my first two were about you and then Mom and Dad, but then I started thinking about your spell. I started thinking about what I wanted; the kind of person who was too good to be true and I just sent them off with my ideal lover before I had time to think straight.”

“Oh Stiles,” Allison consoles.

Their heads are touching and when Stiles starts to shake it’s her turn to wrap around his limbs and wait for the storm to pass. They falls asleep curled together like when they were kids and when morning comes, Allison forces Stiles downstairs and they take it one day at a time.

It all feels so dramatic; falling in love quickly and then losing it before the dust settles. It pricks at Allison until she’s on her third letter with nowhere to send it. To want someone she barely knew made Allison feel sixteen and foolish and she didn’t have to ask if Stiles felt the same. She catches him browsing the local shelter for big, black dogs and when they locked eyes Stiles closes the laptop quickly and sticks out his tongue.

“Some things never change,” she taunts, returning the gesture and duking out of the room before Stiles can throw something at her.

Diana and Emilia don’t help matters by asking about Lydia and Derek every morning before school. Stiles threatens to turn their hair blue if they don’t stop and is dismayed to find how little that does to dissuade them. If anything, they ask about Lydia and Derek more until Jennifer pulls them aside and the questions abruptly stop.

“What did you tell them?” Allison asks, impressed.

“I told them that they were hurting you and Stiles with their questions.”

Wincing, Allison decides to take them out for ice cream when they get home and although Lydia’s name is not mentioned, she can see it in their eyes. Before she can address the elephant in the ice cream parlor, Kira and Sun walk in and all’s forgotten. The girls talk school and Kira talks shop and suddenly Diana and Emilia are begging for another weekend sleepover. Helpless, and outnumbered, Allison agrees and Kira makes plans to pick them up Friday morning since it’s a teacher work day.

“You really don’t have to take them so often,” Allison tells Kira when they reach the fork in the road.

“Yeah, but I figure things at your place are still healing and this way you and Stiles can come up with a wild and romantic plan to get Lydia and Derek back!”

Allison moans, “Not you too Kira!”

Reaching out and grabbing Allison by the shoulders, Kira shakes her a little.

“If you sabotage this chance at happiness I will take over your store and let Malia put cannabis in everything, and then proceed to charge everyone twenty percent extra for products that won’t work.”

Allison stares at her in horror.

“You wouldn’t.”

Kira shrugs, arms falling to her side. “You’d be surprised what I’d do for my best friend when someone’s getting in the way of her happiness: Even if that person is her.”

“You’ve been reading too many romance novels,” Allison scoffs, but her smile is warm and grateful.

“Tell that to my husband.” Kira winks and she waves goodbye to Diana and Emilia as she and Sun head right while Allison strolls to the left.

“Does this mean we can talk about Lydia and Derek now?” Emilia asks once they’re up the hill and Stiles can be seen trimming and singing to the bushes.

“We’ll see honey, we’ll see.”

\- - - - - - - - - -

The first letter arrives two days later.

Allison’s pruning the roses when Stiles thrusts an envelope underneath her nose with a manic smile stretched across his face.

“I don’t trust anything that puts that look on your face,” Allison admits, wiping her forehead with the back of her arm before standing up and shedding her gloves.

“Oh ha-ha-ha, my sister the comedian everyone!” Stiles cheers, jostling the kitten resting on his shoulder until she meows in protest.

“Sorry ‘Mione,” he apologizes and squares his shoulders. Stiles lets Hermione dig her claws into his neck without complaint and that seems to satisfy her, because soon she’s fast asleep.

“Well, that explains it,” Allison mutters and Stiles quickly yanks the letter out of her hands before she knows what’s happening.

“What does?”

Allison snatches the letter back, shooting Stiles a dark look as she straightens out the wrinkles he created. “I wondered what had happened to Kate’s body and apparently while we were busy saving your scrawny butt,” Stiles sputters indignantly, “Derek’s sister, Cora, drove up and got rid of the body.”

Stiles’ mouth snaps closed, allowing Allison to finish reading Lydia’s letter in peace. When she’s finished, Allison lets Stiles read it and his eyes scan the inked words and sighs in defeat: No mention of Derek and no inquires about his recovery.  

“At least she cares enough to let us know,” he eventually says, folding the letter and sticking it back in the envelope before handing it back to Allison.

“That’s not fair Stiles,” Allison reproaches and grudgingly Stiles nods before heading inside, leaving Allison with her thoughts and a note speaking not of heartbreak, but of acceptance. Allowing herself a moment of indulgence, Allison rifles through her old spell book and she passes the night with a bottle of wine and fireplace embers for company.

Stiles slides a cup of tea across the table and it nudges her shoulder the next morning and Allison’s thanks is blurry like her vision. When he presents her with a second letter before heading out to the library, Allison crashes into sobriety when her eyes take in the first line.

“ _I can’t stop thinking about you_.”

It only gets worse from there.

“I’m starting to feel like I’m Vernon Dursley,” Stiles mutters darkly when the sixth letter falls out of the mailbox and onto his lavender slippers. Allison blushes when he slides this one underneath the plant she’s repotting and she finally says something about it at dinner.

“What would you do?” she asks Stiles desperately, running hesitant hands though her thick hair as if coaxing an answer from her brain backwards. Victoria and Jennifer both shoot her indulgent looks over their work; Victoria knitting a blue sweater that locks in warmth for Emilia and Jennifer cross-stitching a good luck charm for Diana.

Sighing in exasperation, Stiles comes up behind Allison and kisses the top of her head, “What wouldn’t I do, for the right one?”

Allison watches him leave the kitchen, but he goes outside instead of upstairs and she contemplates following, but Victoria stops her.

“He’s just needs some time Allison. He’s not get it if you keep barging in, interrupting his healing with your mothering.”

She wants to protest, but eventually she gives up and heads to her bedroom to put her latest letter with the others. Allison ends up writing a dozen replies until her eyes ache and her back begins to protest too loudly for her to ignore. Before she can slide into bed, Allison hears the sound of someone shuffling about outside of her door.

They’re gone before she can get to the door, but when Allison looks down and sees a perfectly preserved golden leaf on the floor, she knows. Careful not to break the fragile blessing, Allison picks it up and heads to her balcony where she holds it in her hand long enough to make a wish before letting the wind take it from her and carry it East.

\- - - - - - - - - -

Going about her normal routine, eight days pass before she feels it.

Diana squeals as she wiggles out of Allison’s grip and she runs to hide behind Stiles who’s letting Emilia perch on his shoulders to pick a couple low-hanging apples near the edge of their property. Struck suddenly by a bolt of lightning in her gut, Allison turns and watches in wonder as a familiar figure comes around the house and stands, waiting for her to make a move.

Lydia crosses her arms, “Well? I didn’t come all the way from New York for you to stare at me.”

Laughter bursts from Allison’s mouth and she runs to Lydia, pulling her close and smiling into a kiss that makes Stiles applaud and Diana and Emilia dance until they fall down; dizzy in their bones. They trade giggles and smiles and when they need to breathe, Lydia pulls back and twists a stray strand of hair behind Allison’s ear.

The wolf whistles from the porch draw their attention to Jennifer and Victoria.

“Lunch is ready lovebirds, hurry up before the munchkins and Stiles eat it all!”

Taking Lydia’s hand in hers, Allison leads her into the house and revels at the sudden ease in breathing. Her gut doesn’t twist in fear when Lydia kisses her and Allison’s able to cast without hesitation or fear. A playful atmosphere washes over the kitchen and spreads throughout the house until everyone’s smile feels safe and secure.

Stiles offers to take Diana and Emilia into town for a movie and before Allison can ask why, Lydia’s pulling her upstairs and she can hear the aunts calling out their own plans for the day.

Dazzled, Allison lets Lydia show her constellations she’s never seen as they roll around in bed until the real stars come out. Allison kisses Lydia’s forehead as she traces patterns across her bare stomach and something clicks into place that Allison never realized didn’t before.

“So, this is what it’s supposed to feel like,” Allison muses and Lydia hums in agreement before pulling Allison on top of her and smirking into her skin.

“It’s only just begun.”

That night the flowers on the grounds double in size and Stiles teases Allison about it the next morning when she and Allison glide down for breakfast.

Refusing to be embarrassed Lydia scoffs, “As if your magic can make something as beautiful as that,” she points to the rainbow lavender stalks on the table that Jennifer brought in.

Stiles’ smile wilts a fraction, but he plays it off until Diana and Emilia ask him to walk them to school.

“You know, you’re going to have to make an effort with Stiles. I’d like it if you two could get along,” Allison tells Lydia over dishes.

“He brought it upon himself when he didn’t reply to Derek’s letters.”

Allison freezes, “What letters?”

“The ones he sent with mine of course,” Lydia replies, drying her plate quickly before reaching for another one.

“Lydia, we only got your letters to me.”

“That’s impossible. Derek put his letters in with mine and then sent them from the post office and now I am going to kill him,” Lydia hisses when she realizes her mistake. Never trust a werewolf to bear his heart to someone.

Allison feels her lips twitch until a smile blooms across her face, “You mean to tell me that Derek wrote Stiles – that Derek cares about Stiles – and just chickened out?”

“Yes, but I don’t see why you’re smiling,” Lydia says concerned, but Allison isn’t paying attention.

She dashes upstairs, bursting into her room and snatching a piece of paper from her desk and a pen, hands flying across the paper until her message is clear. Lydia watches as Allison storms back into the kitchen and into the greenroom.

“What are you doing?” she asks, watching Allison pull a wooden bowl from a shelf along with a pack of matches.

“Come with me,” Allison grabs Lydia’s arm and yanks her back upstairs to the balcony where she lays the note into the bowl and sets it aflame. The edges of the paper curl and when there’s nothing but scorched words left, a breeze scoops them up and takes them far away.

“Couldn’t you have just called him?” Lydia eyes Allison skeptically.

Shrugging Allison says she could have, “But where’s the magic in that?”

Shaking her head in wonder, Lydia pulls Allison back into her room and by the time lunch rolls around they’ve finished morning’s dishes and Stiles’ reply comes through the living room window.

‘ _Gone fishing don’t wait up’_

“What does that mean exactly?” Lydia feels like she’s going to be asking that question a lot in regards to Stiles’ existence in general.

“It means this house is going to get a little bit more crowded.”

\- - - - - - - - - -

A full month passes before Allison sees Stiles again.

Lydia settles into the high school as their new Biology teacher, the first to offer both A.P. and I.B. classes to students willing to work extra for their future college degrees. She and Erica bully the school board into extra funding for an advanced computer lab as well as a Mythology Studies class that counts as an elective. During lunch, she never forgets to drop off a bag of pastries at Allison’s shop: Forever remaining in Kira and Malia’s good-books when she learns their personal favorites as well.

Halloween is right around the corner and both Diana and Emilia want to dress up like werewolves, so Lydia and Allison work hard to create realistic and comfortable costumes; fangs and claws included. They’re settling down to lunch when Allison immediately stands up and runs to the foyer. The door flies open with the flutter of her hand and Allison launches herself off the porch and into Stiles’ waiting arms.

“I knew you were gonna do that before you did,” he teases and Allison’s too happy to argue.

“Showoff,” she chokes around the lump in her throat.

“Eh,” he shrugs, “it’s a gift.”

Diana and Emilia waste no time following Allison until they too were scooped up and spun around until Stiles collapsed onto the golden lawn. Allison reaches out and hugs Derek, who freezes for a second before relaxing and returning the embrace.

“Welcome to the family,” Allison says affectionately and Derek tries not to fidget beneath her soft gaze.

He’s spared a response when Diana and Emilia leave Stiles to flounder about and charge into his legs, nearly knocking him down as well. Allison lets them get reacquainted and walks until she’s staring directly down at Stiles who beams up at her.

“No place like home huh?” he asks ruefully before reaching up and pulling her down into the piles of leaves.

Dinner that night is an affair that could never be duplicated; Jennifer and Victoria dip into the wine and sing a sloshed rendition of Johnny Cash before Stiles and Allison help them to bed; hugging them both tight and promising to make Stiles’ hangover brew in the morning.

Stiles does the honors and tucks Diana and Emilia in before joining Allison, Lydia, and Derek on the front porch for a traditional midnight margarita. Sitting on the front step, Stiles leans into Derek’s chest warm and steady behind him and watches a brilliant meteor shower.

“I didn’t know there was supposed to be one tonight,” he declares aloud and when Allison’s cheeks darken he tips his glass in her direction, “Thanks sis. Love you too.”

“So I know Halloween’s still a couple days away, but I was thinking about doing something… big this year,” Allison says when they’ve switched to tea and the crickets have stopped singing. Stiles eyes her curiously and smiles when she winks at him, “What do you have in mind?”

\- - - - - - - - - -

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Stiles complains, black dress tight across his chest and his legs freezing since he opted out of leggings.

“As if I really had to push,” Allison jokes, readying her umbrella while making sure to check on how Diana and Emilia are doing.

“They’re fine Ali, Lydia’s not gonna let them fall.”

Allison’s nose wrinkles and she gives Stiles a dirty look when he mimes going over the railing. “I have no idea why Derek puts up with you.”

“Me either,” Stiles sighs dejectedly and Allison smacks his arm, “Oh shut up!”

Stiles laughs through his pain and when Victoria clears her throat, he salutes her quickly and grabs his umbrella. Once he’s steady on the railing, he reaches down to help Allison up and peeks around her to watch Lydia help Diana and Emilia.

“They’re fine Stiles,” Allison mocks and if they weren’t so precariously perched, Stiles might shove her lightly. Hundreds of eyes are on them, half of the town spread out across their front lawn as they wait for the magic to happen. Stiles can feel Derek’s eyes on him and he waves, watching Derek raise his hand before lowering it slowly: His smile permanently etched on his lips since Stiles drove across country to confess his ‘undying love’.

Heart pounding a mile a minute, Stiles can feel Allison’s going just as fast. “Hey, do you remember what Mom used to tell us? Her four tips for living a happy and healthy life?”

The moon hangs in Allison’s eyes as she begins, “Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder.”

“Keep rosemary by your garden gate.” Stiles feels his stomach tighten when he opens his umbrella.

“Plant roses and lavender for luck.” Allison reaches out and grabs his hand.

“Fall in love whenever you can,” they whisper at the same time and without hesitation, they jump: Floating gently downwards until their feet touch solid ground and for the first time in over a hundred years no stones are cast and no chants are heard; just the roar of applause and acceptance as magic is welcomed into Beacon Hills once more.

Surrounded by family and friends, Allison and Stiles continue to hold hands and bask in the feeling of freedom that comes with the breaking of a curse.

Allison kisses her relief into Lydia when everyone’s’ gone home and the house is quiet and still. Below them, Stiles whispers his joy into the skin of Derek’s neck as they seek each other's warmth on the porch beneath the envious moon. Magic thrumming in the veins and love alive in their hearts, Allison and Stiles look forward to the wistful sun filling the house with heat and they can hear their mother’s voice in the back of their heads.

_“I’ll let you in on a little secret; I never even believed in happiness. I didn't think it existed. Then one day I saw him – your father – and I knew in my very soul that the only way I was going to be happy was if he was with me. Now look at me:  Mother to the loveliest children around with a husband who loves me so much he shines with it. The point of our ancestor Maria’s story is not to shut love out my darlings, but to welcome it with open arms and will it to last. Every moment spent loving is worth even a second of pain and one day someone is going to crash into your life and make you wonder why you shut your heart away for so long and feared a silly little curse. It took me a long time to believe that, and now I'm ready to believe in just about anything.”_

And so were they.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing I can say can properly thank those of you who've read and commented and left kudos on this fic. It's my longest and perhaps my most therapeutic. I'm not entirely ready to let his verse go, so it's entirely possible there will be a fic from Stiles POV in the future as well as a fanmix of songs I listened to while writing this.
> 
> Again, I must thank you all. I hope you'll continue to enjoy my work for as long as I'm able to write.


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